Cat Has Your Tongue
I once heard a mouse skitter around my room and all
Desperately clawing up at the low trim of my wall
She hid her face from me behind my dresser and my lonely bed
But I could hear her gentle whispers when I rested down my head
Each and every day, her voice would get louder and grow
Until one day I witness her put on her delicate little show
She twirled around my hardwood floor, elegant and poise
But I ran away quite quickly, and she got scared of all the noise
The next day, I saw her head peek around the door
But every day I would see her less and missed her more and more
Though, this day she exposed herself, vulnerable without cover
Telling me of secrets of her past friends, mistakes, and lovers
I consumed this information like cheese on a silver platter
She discussed the theory of love and all about the matter
She left as quick as she came, and again went hard to find
But the taste for her tales and thoughts couldn’t leave my mind
In my barren room, I desired to hear her just like before
Listen to her dark stories and experience her softness once more
I looked up and down, left and right, and over again
Until I found her hidden with her hands around her head
She felt disturbed and caught, but I, the fool, was blind
To her wise words, and so my curiosity became intertwined
I held my desperate heart in my hands and tried to lure her in
So we could dance around connection, conditional and feminine
She took up the invite and we took off our disguises
She held contact up at me with her sweet, sweet eyes and
She bit me
–––––––––––
Winter.
I went outside.
It’s winter.
The cold breeze hurt my exposed arms.
The darkening night hugged me tight.
I sat on the bench outside my room
Still.
I watched the last leaf from the summer trees,
Detach herself from the weak grasp of her branch.
I watched her as she fell.
Followed her movements:
Her struggle with the wind,
Her flailing stem,
Her cold colored veins.
She was green once.
Vibrant, joyous, charismatic,
(Or, as charismatic as a leaf could be),
She fit right in.
To the other leaves around her.
Until the day that her friend turned red,
Her peer, a gleaming yellow,
The leaf across the branch
Wore the most beautiful shade of orange,
And she, still green.
She picked herself apart:
Plucking along the margin,
Concealing her stomas,
While she stayed on the branch.
The other leaves flew to do
Bigger, and better things.
The air became more chilled,
And the days became dimmer.
She didn’t like the feeling of being so alone.
So, she got tired of holding on to
The very thing holding her back.
She took a leap of faith
In hopes for a bigger, and better life.
And she hit the ground,
Softly. Without sound.
She lies on the dirt.
On the cold, earthy dirt.
She lies there
On the dirt.
That’s just a part of life.
I shrugged
As rigid as I was
Sitting in the cold.
I walked back upstairs.
